I walked into therapy thinking I was there to “fix” a specific issue. I left realizing God
had brought me there to expose a deeper truth.
By my third session, after I had finished explaining the pressure I felt to hold everything together, my therapist leaned back and asked:
“Do you pray from love or from fear?”
I froze. No one had ever asked me that before.
She continued, “Do you talk to God like a Father who delights in you, or like a Boss you are trying to impress?”
Something rearranged inside me.
Because then I realized that many of my prayers were wrapped in spirituality but rooted in fear. Fear of disappointing God. Fear of being unworthy. Fear of losing control.
This fear had coloured everything. Even the way I approached therapy.
People had been telling me, “Go and see a therapist. It will help you find yourself again.” But I went because I thought therapy would help me fix my marriage. I was separated already, but I was still holding on, hoping for a change. I had thought stepping out would force things to get better. Instead, everything got worse.
So when I sat in that therapist’s office, I carried a quiet fear of being labelled a failure. I kept thinking, “What will people say?” “What will they call me?” “How will this look?”
I believed in marriage. I loved love (still do). I counselled people about it. I prayed for others. Now here I was, trying to save mine by sheer force of will.
During that third session my therapist said, “Maybe it is me, but it seems like you want to control every outcome.” She was right. I have never liked bad surprises. I am the person who watches the rice so it does not burn because I want it to come out well. That same need for predictability had followed me into my marriage. I was afraid to let anything go wrong because I did not want the outcome to define me.
That was the moment she asked her question again:
Do you pray from love or from fear?
Her words took me back to a painful altercation I once had with my dad. He was so hurt that he wept and would not eat. My mother begged me to apologize. Because of the tension, I had started relating with him in fear. Until I returned to him in love and humility, only then did our relationship become even better and closer.
So why was I relating to God from the place of fear?
I began to see that even my prayers about the marriage were clinging to fear, not trust.
“God please fix this.”
“God please don’t let me fail.”
“God please don’t be angry with me.”
They sounded holy, but the root was fear.
But 1 John 4:18 says,
“Perfect love drives out fear.”
God is not waiting to punish us; He is waiting to hold us.
That session changed my relationship with prayer.
I shifted from praying out of stress to praying out of sonship (daughterhood).
From performing prayer to communing..
From doing a duty to truly delighting in His presence
Now, my prayers often sound like:
“Father, here’s my heart. Help me see as You see.”
“I’m overwhelmed. Be my peace today.”
“I don’t know where to start. Sit with me.”
“Help me to trust Your pace.”
And the more I prayed from love, the more I healed.
Because love repairs what fear damages.
If you’ve been praying from pressure, I invite you into a gentler space with God.
He is not rushing you.
He is not disappointed in you.
He is not demanding perfection.
Psalm 34:18 says,
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.”
Close.
Present.
Listening.
Loving.
Not evaluating.
Not policing.
Not critiquing.
Prayer is not performance.
Prayer is presence.
Reflection:
How would your prayers change if you fully believed God delights in you?
I’d love to hear from you.
Your sister in Love (God),
Nkiruka